Thursday, January 31, 2019

Taiwan-based magazine White Fungus is about to release its 16th issue. The new issue features a 50-page interview with Carolee Schneemann, an epic exploration of the world of animal music, plus Kurt Gottschalk reports on a New York performance of Max Richter’s SLEEP.

Taipei curator Jeph Lo describes witnessing the emergence of noise music in Taiwan’s post–martial law era, alongside a photo essay on political demonstrations held during the island’s transition out of military rule. There is an article about 2018 Turner Prize–nominee Luke Willis Thompson, plus an interview with Dor Guez about the Christian Palestinian Archive. The issue features new performance art from Taiwan, plus a profile of obscure Wellington street artist Ruffo who appears in Chris Kraus’s classic fantastical memoir I Love Dick.

White Fungus was started in 2004 by brothers Ron Hanson and Mark Hanson in Wellington, New Zealand. The first issue was an impromptu protest against the building of a motorway that would cut through the city’s arts district, destroying heritage buildings and forcing artists from their studios.

Copies of the first issue were produced on a photocopier, wrapped in Christmas paper and hurled anonymously through the entrances of businesses throughout the city. The name of the publication comes from a can of “white fungus”, a commercially produced pulped beverage the Hansons discovered in their local supermarket in Taiwan. In 2009 the Hansons relocated back to Taiwan where they have since been active publishing and directing live art events.

The 16th issue of White Fungus will be hitting shelves world-wide in mid-January via Boutique Magazines. If you would like any further information about White Fungus, please don’t hesitate to get in touch.

Sunday, December 23, 2018

I recently returned from a trip to Ireland. Ending with a stop-off in
Yorkshire, my trip began with five days participation in the University
of Limerick Winter Writing School. In between, I worked on my novel Some
Things the English, and photographed a some of the winter light and its
illuminations.

Shadow and crow, Doolin, November 2018.

The Pier, Doolin.

Crow and Cliffs of Moher.

Cliffs of Moher.

Brú na Bóinne, Newgrange.

Yeats' Tower.

Coole Park.

Coole Park.

Oscar Wilde woz ere, Dublin.

Famine Memorial, Dublin.

Yorkshire Sculpture Park, West Bretton.

Yorkshire Sculpture Park, West Bretton.

Yorkshire Sculpture Park, West Bretton.

The trip had many highlights, but I'll leave you with the last one. I finally got to see Norman Ackroyd's "Muckle Flugga", the inspiration behind my poem "Outliers":

Saturday, November 3, 2018

I had an abortion. I
already had two children. I was informed about foetal development. I also knew
and accepted that my health rights came before those of an embryo or foetus; my
human rights came before those of an embryo or foetus that only existed because
of my body.

I told my GP I wanted
an abortion. She was very supportive and organised an appointment with the
abortion clinic in my area. At the abortion clinic I had to convince a doctor,
a psychologist, a nurse and a surgeon that I understood the implications of
having an abortion and that I still wanted to go ahead with the procedure.

The psychologist
offered me counselling. But she also made it clear to me that I would only be
allowed to have an abortion if she and the doctors considered my mental health
would be impacted negatively by keeping the baby, which is to say, I had to
pretend that I would be mentally ill if I was not granted access to a procedure
to remove something from my body that I did not want there.

The nurse talked about
the foetus’ heartbeat and asked what I wanted to happen to the products of
conception – the same terms had been used to describe the three foetuses I
miscarried before having my children. It felt like I was being guilt-tripped,
but the nurse assured me she was just making sure I wanted to go ahead with the
abortion.

The surgeon tried to
pressure me into having a contraceptive coil inserted during the procedure.
When I declined, he laughed at me and proceeded to mock me. I can still hear
his laughter. His undertaking of the procedure triggered sexual assaults I had
survived from the age of eleven.

Having no autonomy
over one’s own body is traumatising; having no choice is traumatising; having
to lie about one’s mental health is traumatising; and having to suffer the
social stigmatisation, not from the wider community but from the health
professionals who, because of legal constraints, are not giving the health care
they are meant to, is traumatising.

Since having an
abortion I have been pregnant twice. I miscarried one pregnancy. I am pregnant
now, because pregnancy is my choice. I didn’t have to break the law to get pregnant
or to miscarry, and no person should be forced into potentially breaking the
law in order to choose to end a pregnancy.

The most distressing
part of having an abortion in New Zealand is not wrangling with the
philosophical dilemma of where humanity starts for the foetus but when one’s
own human rights will be considered.